Unravel
by trufflemores
Summary: Cupcakeblainers said: "my vote is for both like slytherin!kurt and merman!blaine; even if it's the creepy hp mermaids that'd be a trip." Mermaid!Blaine, Slytherin!Kurt. Klaine AU. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

The mermaids of the Great Lake were a mystery to Kurt.

Kurt had only caught a glimpse of one on a cool autumn morning while he was strolling across the grounds. It had been carrying a writhing creature the size of a groundhog off, bobbing along the surface of the lake before vanishing underneath with a sharp smack of its tail. Shuddering, he had quickened his step and opted to spend his free time in one of the courtyards instead, determinedly putting the mermaid sighting out of mind.

He hadn't thought about them again until winter was fully upon them, his gaze occasionally drawn to the lake as it slowly yet inexorably froze over. Cozily bound up in his robes and scarf by a fire, he gazed out the frosted window and wondered how the mermaids and other creatures that inhabited the lake faired once the temperatures fell.

"They're hardier than they look," was the elusive and singularly unhelpful answer that his Magical Creatures professor was able to provide when Kurt pressed him for answers. "Some pass, naturally, but for the most part they're quite hardy."

Winter brought its own challenges for Kurt, including midterm exams, and he chose to focus on those tasks rather than the enigmatic plight of the creatures dwelling in the frozen lake. It was the day before he returned home for Christmas break that he spared them another thought, gaze drawn to the lake as snow continued to pile on top of the ice. He halfheartedly debated asking a professor whether or not the mermaids celebrated any sort of holidays or had indeed any conception of the passage of time in minute figures such as days or weeks or months before tossing the notion aside. It was useless to express an interest in creatures so singularly unpleasant; simply put, aside from Kurt himself, no one cared.

Returning to Hogwarts after Christmas and New Year's had been a refreshing way to clear his mind. He loved visiting his family, loved his dad and stepmom and stepbrother, but he also loved Hogwarts and all it had to offer, and being away for so long felt like surrendering the use of an extremity. Being able to tread over the snow-covered grounds and sweep down hidden corridors and endless hallways was a delight that Kurt was sure he would never tire of.

What he loved most was exploring the castle once the younger students were safely abed and the older students were engaged in their own tasks. The Invisibility Cloak that his mother had given him was invaluable on his nightly escapades, providing him the perfect cover to slip into closed libraries unseen or raid the kitchens for a midnight snack. Once, when he was feeling particularly mischievous, he had raided Professor Cabot's private stash of potions, tenderly handling the vials that continued ingredients so dangerous that the warning labels had simply shown _Dire need only._

He'd always been comfortable around Potions – something about the mechanization of the process, the tinkering and toil involved, reminded him of home in a way that Herbology and Charms simply did not – and he hadn't taken anything from the stock, gazing admiringly at the collection for hours before finally – reluctantly – departing.

He hadn't known that such extensive knowledge would come in handy until the ice had thawed completely. Robes dancing around his heels as he walked briskly down the stairwell, cautious of being caught, he'd stilled when he heard it: a thin, wailing noise, coming from the lake.

Heart racing, every muscle frozen in place, he'd waited in for several long moments in silence before it came again, gasping pants so sharp and thin that they seemed to scrape along his skin as they drifted towards him.

Without wasting a moment – and, indeed, before he could question the sanity of the decision – he bolted across the grass to the lake, drawn by some invisible force towards the noise. He had almost convinced himself that he was entirely out of his mind when he heard it again, steadier but fainter, close but unseen. Treading cautiously – wary of anything that might do him harm – he made his way towards a heavily shadowed figure as it lay prone half-out of the water, tail writhing weakly under the surface.

The first things he noticed were the rounded barbs sticking out of its tail – the next, the soft, masculine curves of the mermaid's – _merman's _– jaw. Pupils blown and serrated teeth bared in a pained snarl, the creature looked barely human. Mesmerized by the display – and horrified at the amount of blood discoloring the surrounding water – Kurt approached on feather-light footsteps, freezing when a leaf crunched underneath him.

_That _got the merman's attention. Suddenly the wet grass that he had been directing all of his attention to was inconsequential. He looked up at Kurt and bared his teeth in a warning snarl, his arms still trembling underneath him as he struggled upright, attempting to slip back into the water. His tail lashed as he struggled, unable to get his bearings even as Kurt watched, vaguely curious and horrified.

Every instinct warned him to walk away, to leave the merman alone to nurse his wounds, but he couldn't tear his gaze from the merman's curved shoulders, his floppy curls, his pointed ears. Had he not possessed a tail and a truly abominable temper, then Kurt might have even wagered that he seemed vaguely _human._

But, despite the name, mermaids were creatures that needed to be treated with the same level of respect and wariness as Hippogriffs. Interaction was strongly discouraged, for obvious reasons: even a level-headed, uninjured mermaid was likely to swipe at a student that dared to come too close. The wounds would not be fatal, but excruciating reminders that mermaids possessed things no human would ever desire to encounter.

So it made no sense, logically, for him to step closer, falling into a crouch naturally once they were close enough to touch.

Eyes closed, the merman was strewn across the muddy grass with his cheek pressed against it, untrimmed nails scrabbling weakly at the grass as his tail thrashed and thrashed and thrashed, trying in vain to dislodge the barbs attached to it. Kurt watched, fascinated, as he reached down with clumsy fingers to try and pluck them out that way, unable to get the right grip with the barbs embedded as they were.

Letting out a sympathetic noise, Kurt flinched when the merman's head whipped up to look at him, a mixture of wariness and anger lurking underneath the surface.

Kurt knew that the anger wasn't directed at him, but he still stepped back, giving the merman more room until he was slowly backing away. The merman resolutely ignored him as he did so, thrashing his tail until Kurt was a dozen, two dozen yards away. He burst into a run once the merman was just under the crest of the first hall, heading pell-mell over the grounds towards the castle.

He found what he needed and returned to the lake before ten minutes had passed, the merman still prone against the grass as he let out another warbled cry, high-pitched and heartbreaking. Kurt didn't care if he wasn't human, didn't care if he couldn't comprehend human emotions in the same way: he needed to help because he _was _human and no creature deserved to suffer so needlessly.

When he approached a second time, the merman didn't flinch or writhe away, didn't bare his teeth and snarl up at him. His shoulders bunched and his fingers tensed in the grass, tail lashing once in warning, but he didn't move, otherwise, remaining very still and alert, almost human. Kurt edged closer, offering the three vials first as a sort of peace offering even though the merman's eyes were averted. They flickered up to the vials with interest, bright gold and unflinching. Kurt couldn't help but stare, forgetting his task entirely until the merman looked away, tail lashing the water once more. The bleeding had slowed to a crawl, although Kurt still didn't like the blotchy paleness of his skin.

Inching close enough to reach out, heart pounding in his chest, Kurt eased himself onto the grass, careless of the moisture soaking into his clothes, and held out the first unstopped vial.

The merman didn't take it for several long, tense moments. In the silence Kurt wondered, not improbably, if he was about to be bitten or scratched and sent hobbling off to Madame Astor's for a hasty antidote. Just when he was about to set the vial on the grass and leave the merman to his own devices, Kurt froze when the merman shifted partially upright, balancing on an arm as he reached clumsily for the vial.

He downed it in a single grimace-laden swallow. Kurt arched an eyebrow, impressed at his tolerance – most students vomited from the mere smell of the potion – before the merman twisted onto his side and retched, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the grass.

He heaved for so long that Kurt worried that he had given him too strong a dose, that mermaids were somehow dangerously susceptible to the poison-purging potion that he'd given him, when, with a full-body shudder, the merman vomited a mouthful of black bile. Relaxing slightly even as his heart continued to twist in his chest – it was a crude method for expelling poisons, meant to be used by inexperienced or inefficient Healers in the field – Kurt waited until he had slumped bonelessly onto the grass, eyes shut, before inching forward and pressing the second vial into his open, clammy hand.

There was a cold moment of fear that shot through him when the merman's raspy claws brushed his palm before he retreated to a safer distance a handful of feet away, clear of the mess. Thankfully, it was already disappearing – one of the many beneficial qualities of the potion; it evaporated quickly – by the time he sat back on his heels and waited.

The merman sniffed the vial twice, wary after his first encounter but surprisingly open-minded, given how horrific it had been. Kurt hadn't expected him to give it more than a passing thought, but he downed it swiftly and uncomplainingly, shuddering once as he did so.

Almost immediately, the vigor seemed to return to his face; color flushed his cheeks as his limbs trembled, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he twisted on the ground, caught between paradoxes as the potion took effects. He was weak from the purge but rapidly regaining his strength from the revitalizing potion.

He passed the last vial to him before the effects of the second potion began to fade, the merman's fingers trembling around it as he brought it to his lips and swallowed the mouthful without a thought.

Even knowing the effects of the numbing potion, Kurt still yelped in surprise when the merman's body began to slide further into the lake, his fingers tangling in the grass as he turned with a sort of wild panic in his eyes and clung to the grass, cheek pressed to the dirt. Without a moment's hesitation, Kurt lunged forward and caught him under the arms, tugging him back ashore until he flopped out of the water entirely, tail heavy and motionless behind him.

Clawing weakly at Kurt's arm, the merman hissed from between his teeth as he lay on his back, gazing helplessly up at Kurt as the numbness overtook him entirely, leaving everything but his head virtually immobile.

Suppressing his guilty conscience at putting the merman through even _more _inexplicable stress – no amount of miming could convey the necessity of the potion in order to safely remove the barbs – Kurt withdrew a pair of tweezers and set to work. Some things were too fine for wands, and Kurt was afraid that a spell might rip the barbs out with more than just bristle-covered ends. Setting to work with his Muggle tools, he extracted each of the barbed thorns from the merman's tail, ignoring the way it twitched minutely after each one.

Eighteen barbs later, the tail was barb-free, with angry red dots punctuating the places where the bristles had clung. Grateful that the worst was over, Kurt looked up at the merman and noticed his gaze skyward, patient and oddly thoughtful, unflinching in the face of his trials. He couldn't tell if the set of his jaw was merely from the potion or due to contemplation.

He got his answer when he shifted back onto his heels, the merman's gaze sliding to him as he tilted his chin up a little, almost challenging. He slowly tilted his gaze back down, looking at his tail with quietly thoughtful eyes.

The tension lay heavy in the air, and Kurt considered shuffling out of reach before the merman could fully regain his senses and repay him for his suffering, when at last the merman coughed, a scratchy, breathless sound, and tilted his head back onto the grass, eyes closed.

It was the closest thing to trust that Kurt had seen all night, and he relaxed unconsciously, the tension melting out of his own shoulders. He'd done something right, at last; he felt vindicated as he gathered the empty vials and tucked them back in his robes, wondering if he needed to assist the merman back to the water of if he would manage on his own. The numbing potion was already wearing off; the merman's tail flickered absently from side to side as he tested the limb with newfound painlessness.

"S-sorry," the merman rasped, entirely unexpected, and Kurt almost fell over despite being seated as the merman rubbed his cheek against the grass, evidently exhausted. Even with his sharp teeth and pointed ears, he looked gentle in that moment, brushing his face cat-like against the grass.

"Don't be," Kurt said, wondering how on Earth he was supposed to explain to Professor Cabot that he had stolen three of her prized potions in order to help a merman. "You – speak?"

"Less," the merman explained. "Less than – you. But – yes." Then, features twisting for a moment, the merman explained, "Hurt before. Less hurt, now." Elaborating, he grated out, "Sharp pain first. Then dark. I was – drowning. Crawled to – to land. Found you." Looking up at Kurt, he amended, "You – found me?"

Nodding, Kurt waited for him to continue. When the merman didn't speak, he asked, "I found you. Yes." When the merman made a soft, vaguely musical sound, somewhere between a groan and a hum, he admitted, "I've never actually met a mermaid before."

Grinning with those wickedly sharp teeth, the merman said, "Never met human. Strange." Then, tilting his head to look at him, he added accusingly, "Painful."

"Necessary," Kurt clarified. Seeing the merman's blank look, he added, "Good pain."

"No pain is good pain," the merman countered.

Kurt couldn't help but nod his agreement. His gaze flicked instinctively to the merman's tail when he flicked it thoughtfully. "Is it – sensitive?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Strong," the merman corrected. "Like – " And then, heedless of how _intimate _the gesture was, the merman leaned forward and lightly raked a hand from the top of Kurt's thigh to his knee. "This," he finished.

Shivering in spite of himself – it was cold, but even Kurt knew that he couldn't blame the cold with the warming weather – he tightened his cloak around his shoulders, looking at the merman's unclothed body and asking, "How do you stay warm?"

The merman looked up at him with slitted eyes, wary. "Humans are sensitive," he said at last. "Not us." Tilting his head to stargaze a moment, he added, "Late. You – sleep?"

"I do," Kurt agreed. "Or, at least, I should." Perfectly aware of how late it was but loathe to leave his new companion – how often did anyone speak with mermaids? – Kurt asked the only thing he could, "Can I see you again?"

The merman frowned at him, neither cruel nor entirely understanding. "Next moon? Yes."

Willing to take whatever he could get – any opportunity to converse with a mermaid was fine by Kurt – he nodded, watching as the merman slowly shifted towards the water again, his movements smooth once more.

"Thank you –?"

"Kurt," Kurt supplied inanely.

The merman blinked, already half-submerged. "_Kurt,_" he repeated, struggling to wrap his tongue around the syllable. Then, more authoritatively, he looked into Kurt's eyes and said simply, "Kurt."

"What's your name?" Kurt asked, already watching him vanish, mystified.

The merman flashed him a smile and for a moment Kurt was convinced that he wouldn't say.

"Blaine," he said at last, ducking under the water and vanishing, ripples trailing after him until he was gone completely.

_Blaine._

That night, Kurt dreamed of Blaine – of a downy watery bed and a blue-tailed merman curled up on top of it, his scales shimmering as he slept, bubbles emitting from his mouth.

Hogwarts was full of mysteries, Kurt knew, many of which would never be fully understood; but most of all, he was entranced by the mystery that was Blaine the merman.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

The merman haunted his thoughts.

Kurt tried to forget about his chance encounter at the lake – certainly, his classes were doing everything in their power to distract him – but he couldn't put the images out of his mind, of a cold blue rippling tale, sharp, pointed teeth bared in a defensive snarl underneath wide hazel eyes. To say that he was infatuated – as some of his peers had brazenly suggested; _who's the lucky bloke, Hummel?_ – missed the point entirely.

Mermaids were simply a point of interest to him, moreso now than ever before. In his spare time, he combed through the Hogwarts' libraries for any hint of mermaid references, peeling worn tomes off the shelves and flipping through yellowed pages. There were dozens of fantastically improbable renderings, describing mermaids as anything from benign and mentally lacking to stunningly intelligent and ruthlessly carnivorous. Kurt couldn't help but be drawn to the descriptions of mermaids as sharks: the teeth were unnervingly similar, in shape as well as size and method.

There were two camps in the mermaid school of thought, he quickly learned: the first maintained that mermaids were essentially highly anthropomorphized dolphins, capable of menial tasks and possessing rudimentary intelligence but otherwise incommunicable. They enjoyed living in groups and even tolerated human company for periods of time – although, the authors allowed, their tolerance for humans was indubitably less so than their apparent aquatic relations – and ultimately they spent most of their time living in caves carved out by other creatures (unbidden, the image of Blaine crept into his thoughts, curled up cat-like on a stony ledge, tail swishing occasionally).

Then there was the camp that insisted that mermaids were more shark-like in nature. Kurt read the accounts, entranced, of recent human encounters with mermaids. In nearly every instance, the human became the unfortunate recipient of a painful warning swipe to calf or thigh, leading to a hasty medical intervention to prevent infection (which, given their sharp, clumsy claws, Kurt could imagine quite easily). There were dozens of sightings of mermaids in groups, but all accounts indicated that mermaids preferred to approach humans alone.

One particularly chilling account recalled a wizard who had foolishly tried to woe a mermaid whose mate had lingered underwater mere feet away. The wizard hadn't known what hit him when he was snatched from the shore into the water and discarded onto the grass moments later like a ragdoll, covered in claw marks.

Kurt shuddered at the thought, not surprised that the aggressiveness and stylistic preference of the attack had led some theorists to group mermaids as crocodilian.

No matter what the books said, nothing accounted for the fact that Blaine could speak English. There were footnotes included that described the mermaid language. Kurt spent hours trying to decipher the hissing, warbling, screeching nature of it to no avail. After many frustrating perusals he at last conceded that it was perhaps entirely animalistic in nature with little-to-no human equivalent. Thus, Blaine's mastery – however basic – of English was astonishing.

There had to be more that the books weren't telling them, and Kurt was determined to find the answers.

And so he abandoned the cool, comforting walls of the libraries and ventured onto the grounds instead, spending long periods studying on the grass and looking up every so often to catch a glimpse of movement out on the lake. Most times, it was merely light shimmering on the water; others, a bird snatching a fish from the water; and every so often, the giant squid itself, lolling near the surface and waving its many arms in uninterrupted contentment.

He didn't see another mermaid for almost a month, well into March when he caught a glimpse of a mermaid's tail vanishing underneath the water. Where once he might have shuddered in revulsion, now he froze and gazed at the water, not daring to move from his perch in the tree he was sitting against. He watched the still black water anxiously for any signs of life, scanning its surface for minutes on end until at last, defeated, he returned to his book.

Midway through a chapter about Apparition, intrigued enough by the subject to lose track of his thoughts, he heard a rustle nearby.

He didn't move even when Blaine settled into place on the grasp beside him, close enough to the water that the tip of his tail could almost dip into it. Holding his breath for several long seconds – he'd read enough stories to develop a healthy sense of caution around mermaids in general, even one that seemed hospitable – Kurt let it out slowly when Blaine didn't make a sound, leaning back against the tree's bark and watching the tiny waves on the lake.

Unsure how to proceed, Kurt feigned interest in his book, watching Blaine out of the corner of his eye. His tail was even more brilliant in the full light – a deep, rich blue at the tip that became lighter towards his core. The white stripe around his waist was like a belt, diving the two halves of him: the fish-like and the human.

Balanced on his arms – bulging with muscle; Kurt had no idea how strong he was but was absolutely certain that he could tear bark off the tree if he wanted to – he remained in a reclined position a mere foot away from Kurt's position for a handful of minutes, not looking at him.

Then he slipped into the water and disappeared, gone in the span of two breaths. Kurt let out a deep sigh of his own at the absence; he hadn't wanted to scare Blaine off, but it had been so surreal to see him again that he hadn't known what to say.

He almost jumped out of his skin when there was a splash and a light thud beside him, a water-soaked book landing in the grass at his side. Heart racing, he reached out and curled his fingers around it, glancing back at the lake as Blaine bobbed just above the surface of the water, watching him from a distance of ten feet and looking rather – anxious?

His brow was furrowed, his jaw set, and Kurt didn't know how long he would wait for Kurt to cotton on to his contribution and so Kurt picked up the book. To his surprise (and secret delight) there were symbols scattered around the pages, clearly preserved through the work of a waterproofing charm. Suitably charmed himself, he almost forgot his audience entirely as he flipped through the pages.

It was snatched out of his fingers and cradled to Blaine's chest a moment later, his cheeks a dark but surprisingly vibrant blue. Kurt froze, fingers still outstretched to cradle the book no longer between them, when at last Blaine whirled and vanished under the water, taking the book with him.

Kurt couldn't repress his delight for the remainder of the afternoon, even knowing that he would never be able to understand the book without a suitable translator.

Blaine wanted him to see it, to glimpse something from down under, and Kurt was thrilled at the possibility that there could be even more than he'd suspected.

. o .

"So, who's your mermaid friend?" Rachel asked just as Kurt took a deep, replenishing sip of hot cider that night.

He almost snorted his drink, thankfully regaining his composure in time to say, "I don't have a mermaid friend."

Rachel leveled him with one of her trademark _I've known you for six years you are _not _getting away from this that easily Kurt Hummel _looks. Kurt bit into a roll of bread to distract himself, mentally mulling over the best way to address the topic.

Thankfully, he was spared the necessity of answering when Mercedes slid onto the bench beside him and accused, "I have been looking for you _all day._ Where have you been? We were supposed to study for Potions together at three-thirty."

Not needing to glance at his watch to know that he had missed _that _deadline, Kurt said, "Sorry, 'Cedes. I got caught up with work and completely forgot that was today."

"Kurt was too busy with his _secret admirer _to remember his worldly obligations," Rachel chimed in, helpfully.

Kurt groaned, ripping off another bite of bread and insisting, "He is _not _a secret admirer."

"I don't care if he's a goblin or a boy from Pluto, I want the deets," Mercedes demanded. "And don't you dare leave anything out just because of that train wreck with the Adam kid –"

"It was not a train wreck; it just wasn't meant to be," Kurt said, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Rachel and Mercedes exchanged a look.

"Okay, fine. It ended _badly,_" Kurt said.

Mercedes squeezed his hand once sympathetically. "Boo. We snuck into the kitchens and had the House Elves bring out the Ben and Jerry's. It was that bad."

"But we're happy that you found a new man in your life!" Rachel piped in, happy to bring the topic back around to the gossip that she'd been itching for in the first place. "What's his name?"

Not wanting to be grilled in the Great Hall for details about his love life – or rather lack thereof, and especially in the mermaid department – Kurt hissed, "He is a _mermaid._ We are not dating, we are not ever going to date, we –"

"Wait, hold up." Mercedes held up a hand, repeating, "Did you just say _mermaid_? Honey that is a can of worms you do _not _want to get into. They're not even part-human. They're like pseudo-human – as in they'll happily rip off your arm if it makes them angry."

"Trolls would probably do the same thing," Rachel admitted. "Although I'm not sure if there actually _have _been any Troll-human unions."

"We are _not. Dating,_" Kurt enunciated. "I met him once – " the lie fell easily from his lips, as he certainly wasn't about to confess to his previous late-night encounter – "and he swam off before I could say a word."

"He seemed pretty charmed by _you,_" Rachel pointed out. Kurt was convinced that she enjoyed making his life difficult, especially when it involved juicy gossip. "Usually they just swim off if anything gets too close." Switching gears entirely, she explained, "You know we'd support you in your future relationships with any humans, including mythical ones, but I have to agree with Mercedes on this one: Kurt, they're dangerous. And they're basically like children, so dating one would be –"

"Completely out of the question," Kurt said firmly, taking another long drag from his cider. "Can we please talk about something else?"

"How about that cute American transfer in our Charms class?" Rachel asked, brightening.

Kurt groaned and promptly excused himself, afraid that they would start matchmaking again if he let them.

. o .

As it so happened, the American transfer _was _cute, and Rachel and Mercedes' matchmaking abilities – however misguided – were unneeded in order for Kurt to fall promptly head over heels for him. It was alarming how often he caught himself staring at the back of Elliot's head in Charms class, at last stammering over an apology after class when Elliot caught him doing so.

"It's okay," Elliot laughed, shifting his shoulders in a way that seemed to dissipate some of the bright aura that hung around him. "Sometimes I forget that I'm even – putting myself out there so much," he explained sheepishly. "Perks of being a Veela." Looking Kurt over – still frozen in place – he added, "Want to grab a coffee?"

Relieved that it wasn't entirely his fault that he couldn't stop staring – Elliot himself _was _attractive, but certainly not earth-shatteringly so once the aura was dimmed – Kurt agreed.

And they weren't even dating – not really – except they spent most of their free time together, which meant that – as far as everyone else was concerned – they were dating. Even so, Mercedes tagged along frequently and Rachel was a near constant presence as well, preventing the rumors from spreading too far, too quickly. Elliot didn't seem to mind, but Kurt didn't want to put their relationship out there so quickly (knowing that all it would mean was more rumors, endless rumors).

Whenever Rachel and Mercedes were unavailable they would sit out one one of the stands watching the older Years practice Quidditch. Occasionally, Kurt would notice a ripple on the Great Lake as they wandered past and pause, recalling his hours spent waiting for even the slightest indication of the creatures lurking below. "Everything okay?" Elliot would ask.

When no further appearances seemed forthcoming, Kurt would nod and respond, "Fine."

. o .

The next time Kurt spotted Blaine was an accident. The sky was crisp and clear and the grounds finally dry enough to walk around in shoes instead of boots, his entire body singing with every step as trimmed grass crunched pleasantly underfoot. He'd been wandering along the edge of the lake waiting for Mercedes and Elliot to show up so they could go to Hogsmeade together when there was a tiny splash and then Blaine was _there_, his curled claws digging into the cover of the book that he was holding.

Kurt froze in place, unable to speak for several long moments, until Blaine reluctantly drifted closer, glancing over Kurt's shoulder and around the lake in turns. Close enough to extend an arm – and the book with it – Blaine waited for Kurt to take it, beating a swift retreat back to the water and sinking below.

"Oh, hey, Kurt," Elliot greeted, coming up along his shoulder and clapping a hand over it. Kurt stood, dazed and uncertain that the encounter had even been _real _despite the soaked book in his hands. "What's that?" Elliot asked, nodding at the book.

"A – " Kurt licked his lips, struggling to put his curious and indefinable relationship with Blaine into words, "gift. I think."

"Must've been a clumsy friend, to drop it in the lake," Elliot mused, turning to look at Mercedes as she approached. "Ready to go?"

Kurt nodded, dazed, and had not missed the way that Blaine watched him from a distance of fifty yards or so, barely noticeable to the others, sinking beneath the water again before Kurt could call out to him.

Clinging to the book – vowing to keep it safe at all costs – Kurt wrapped it in the spare robes he kept tucked in his satchel and let Mercedes lead the way to Hogsmeade.

. o .

As soon as they'd had their fill of Hogsmeade and dinner in the Great Hall, Kurt pleaded fatigue and disappeared into his door room, retrieving the book from his satchel even before the door had closed behind him.

The symbols were utterly incomprehensible to Kurt, although he could tell by the subtle differences in hand-writing that they were penned by different authors, but what fascinated him most were the grooves along the blank, stiff cover where Blaine's claws had dug in.

Whatever it was, it was important to him, and Kurt knew to handle it with care. He tried charming it to form a translatable copy to no avail. He considered approaching professors about it and stopped himself outside Professor Cabot's door, fearing that the book would be confiscated from him once he realized its inherent value. At last, he returned to his old haunt and rooted through the library for hours for any translation texts, leafing through page after page of broken mermaid language until he'd successfully compiled a working alphabet.

Painstakingly, not willing to concede defeat, he recopied the alphabet onto a fresh sheet of parchment and under candlelight in his dorm room cast the translation charm once more, a fresh stack of sheets on the bed beside him.

And slowly, to his amazement and delight, words appeared at the top of the page, ticking out across the line as they were translated.

He couldn't stop his eyes from following the text as it appeared, indecipherable clusters of words that were almost as vexing as the symbols had been.

Drawing in a deep breath – knowing that getting frustrated now would only lead to him tossing the book out the window; not the best course of action with something so valuable – he cast another translation charm to reverse the words on the page.

A conversation unfolded before his eyes.

_You will do well here, _the neater of the two writers began. _The water is plentiful. The seasons are mild._

_The winters are very, very, very cold, _the messier writer fretted. _There is no food. There is no sun._

_The lake is charmed. You will be fine._

_I will be _frozen_, _the second writer wrote, so viciously that Kurt wondered how the pen hadn't broken through the page on the original copy.

_You will be fine, _the first insisted. _I am not far. I have survived. You will as well._

It carried on in such a fashion for pages, the script becoming more complex as time passed. He read until the candlelight dimmed, until the dorm was heavy with sleep and snores. He read until his fingers ached from turning page after page, until at last there was no more, ending simply with the messier of the two scrawls: _Where have you been? I need you._

Cooper – the first writer – hadn't responded.

Sitting back against the wall in dazed amazement, Kurt held the pages limply between his fingers, staring at the book that they had come from in quiet awe. There were insights into the mermaid world that had never been penned, as far as he could tell – their culture, their fragility, their strength, their fears – but more than that he had realized quickly on that the book was _Blaine's _book.

It was a diary.

And he'd given it to Kurt.

He could barely pull on his Invisibility Cloak quickly enough, racing out of the hall underneath its cover and across the grounds until he reached the lake, panting as he clutched the book to his chest.

He waited and waited and waited, cold beginning to numb his excitement as the lake's surface rippled uneventfully. Just when he was certain that his fingers would go numb before anything would change, a familiar head surface, followed quickly by the rest of Blaine as he bobbed out of the water, gazing up at Kurt with dazed eyes.

Kurt held out the book to him without a word. Blaine took it, staring at its cover as though he couldn't quite believe that it was there, and then looked up at Kurt, golden eyes bright.

"Tell me when Cooper responds," he insisted. It wasn't what he'd meant to say – _thank you for sharing this with me, for everything – _but it was the only thing that his mind could come up with, so early in the morning, so rattled with _questions._

Blaine stared at him, uncomprehending for a long moment. Just as Kurt was about to explain to him in more simplistic terms what he wanted, Blaine nodded, hugging the book closer to his chest.

He opened his mouth to ask why Blaine had done it – why Blaine had surrendered so much of himself to Kurt for seemingly nothing in return – when there was a loud, hair-raising growl at his back.

Every muscle in Kurt's body went tense at the tell-tale werewolf howl that cut the air a moment later, seconds before water rushed up to meet him as Blaine surged up to grab his arms and dragged him down into the water.

He never had breath for a scream, clinging to Blaine's back and shoulders as he broke the surface and swam. Kurt shivered violently at the cold water, aware of the heat underneath Blaine's skin as he flattened himself against it. The werewolf bared its teeth at them and snarled loudly as Blaine retreated deeper into lake, carrying Kurt with him. Then he plunged under the surface and the werewolf was no more, only darkness and coldness and silence.

Kurt held on as tightly as he could, careful not to let his legs touch Blaine's tail as they hovered just under the surface, Blaine calm and unperturbed and Kurt quietly panicking as every iota of oxygen was squeezed from his lungs. Just when he was certain that the blackness around him was about to become complete, they resurfaced, Blaine whirling them around to scan the lake. Kurt clung to his shoulders, gasping, until at last they relaxed slightly.

They could hear distant howling from the Forbidden Forest, but the area around them – and, indeed, the grassy hills leading up to Hogwarts – was empty. Even in Kurt's spotty vision he could see that they were alone once more, relief seeping through him like a drug as he held on and let Blaine tow him to shore.

Kurt sank onto the wet grass and shivered hard, unable to muster the energy to move for a long moment. Blaine hovered in the water anxiously, watching him and the trees, ready to recapture him if need be. Kurt dimly noticed that Blaine's arms were empty: the book was gone. He couldn't help but feel guilty, knowing how difficult it would be to find again in the dark water.

"Kurt?" There were footsteps this time, and Kurt noticed Blaine tensing as he shrunk back, almost disappearing under the water. Kurt looked over his shoulder and saw Elliot running towards him, his gaze sliding over Kurt's shoulder and to Blaine – almost vanished, now, but still visible, those golden eyes unmistakable – before he came to a halt in front of Kurt and _snarled _at Blaine.

"Elliot," Kurt said, still shivering hard. "Elliot, stop it," he ordered. "He did _nothing _wrong."

"Come on, we need to get you to Madam Astor's," Elliot said, reaching for Kurt.

Blaine chose that moment to hiss at him, glaring at Elliot as he neared Kurt, evidently seeking to protect him from any perceived threat; his claws were out, and even though Kurt was numb he could tell that his own arms were beginning to ache strangely, small grooves where Blaine's claws had been and _oh._

It was too much for Elliot: there was a flash from his wand and Blaine _reeled, _letting out a screech as he flailed and vanished underwater, writhing as he swam farther and farther away.

"What the hell was that?" Kurt snapped.

"We need to get you to the infirmary," Elliot explained, scooping him up in his arms effortlessly. The Invisibility Cloak, Kurt noticed, was still at the base of the tree where he had left it, shimmering lightly in the breeze.

"What were you thinking, Kurt? Why were you _here_, you know how dangerous they are –"

"What did you do to him?" Kurt demanded.

"We need to get you to the infirmary," Elliot repeated, unmoved, as he hiked him a little higher in his arms and kept walking.

Kurt's arms were bleeding sluggishly, but he didn't care. "Put me down."

"No."

"Is he okay?"

Making an exasperated noise, Elliot said, "He's fine. It wears off in an hour."

Kurt was still shivering and knew that Elliot was right, knew that the infections from Blaine's claws could already be building in his skin, but he still grated out, "It wasn't his _fault._"

He never heard Elliot's response, his vision going dark at last, his thoughts all centered on one thing and one thing only: _Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

Kurt awoke in the Infirmary Wing.

Blinking dazedly at his surroundings, he sat up on the cot, squinting at the sunshine streaming in through the tall windows along the wall.

"Ah, Mr. Hummel," Madam Astor exclaimed, evidently pleased to see him. "Good to have you back with us. How are you feeling?"

It took Kurt a moment to take stock of himself amid his surroundings – he could only recall a vague sense of panic and then nothing, his mind cool and calm and orderly – before he was able to respond, "I feel fine. What happened?"

"Mr. Gilbert brought you in – quite the adventuresome sort, aren't you? It's not often that I see students for mermaid-related injuries –"

All at once the memories flooded him: the raw terror at the first chilling crackle of the werewolf's howl, the absurdly cold smack of the lake's frigid water against his extremities, the swoop and glide of Blaine's body underneath his as he swam from shore and their return journey, his own fading consciousness then reducing the world to grays as Elliot snapped at Blaine and Blaine snapped at Elliot and then there was screaming and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness as Blaine vanished and Elliot scooped him into his arms and the world faded away.

"I have to find Blaine," he said immediately, cutting Madam Astor off as she ran her wand over his upper arms. He pushed himself to a more upright position and had almost managed to slide out of the bed when Elliot appeared, helping Madam Astor hold him back.

"You can find Blaine later," Elliot said, voice infuriatingly calm. Kurt wanted to strangle him. "Right now you need to stay here and rest until Madam Astor says you're all right. Mermaid venom can be pretty potent; I don't want you to get hurt."

"Not like how you hurt him, right?" Kurt spat. He didn't care about the wounded look on Elliot's face or the confused one on Madam Astor's; he _needed _to find Blaine. "I'll explain everything later, I promise, but right now I _have to find him._ Please."

Madam Astor gave him a cursory once-over before nodding, evidently satisfied. "Very well. You know where to find me if the cuts worsen."

"Thank you," Kurt said, already scrambling off the cot as Elliot offered him an arm. He hissed, his own frustration poring over as he snapped, "I'm _fine._" Elliot retreated a step, firming his shoulders after a moment and letting him go.

For that, at least, Kurt was grateful.

As soon as his feet touched the floor, he took off at a run for the lake. It was close to sunrise, the sky already turning pink at the edges, and Kurt knew that Elliot's spell was meant to last for the better part of an hour. Dashing over the grass and flying down the hill, he came to an abrupt halt at the lake's edge, unsure how to proceed.

"Blaine!" he called – hoping, miraculously, to attract him. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted, "_Blaine!_" and felt his spirits lift fractionally when the water rippled.

The giant squid appeared, lolling happily under the surface as Kurt groaned and buried a hand despairingly in his hair.

Drawing in a deep breath, he stripped off his robes and splashed into the water, casting a Bubble-Head charm over his own head before ducking below.

The silence was eerie as he swam farther out into the lake, kicking hard to keep his temperature from dropping too quickly. It was hard – even without the initial unexpected shock and surge of fear racing through him, the water was bitingly cold – but he kicked and kicked and kicked, desperate for any sign of Blaine.

His bubble had grown claustrophobically small and he felt despair creeping in as he surveyed the lake in vain for any sign of Blaine, pushing onward and freezing when he saw Blaine curled up in a tangle of seaweed, trembling weakly.

The fear that he felt descending to the same depth as Blaine paled utterly in the face of his alarm, Kurt's arms already reaching to push the seaweed aside as he reached the bottom. He noticed with vague surprise that the seaweed was warm to the touch, soft and comfortable – the lake was noticeably warmer down here, drawing some of the coolness out of his own limbs.

Blaine's skin was ice-cold to the touch.

Kurt hissed, retracting his hand before sliding his arms around Blaine's torso, trying to lift him. He didn't budge, and even in the relative lightness of the water he was _heavy, _his muscular tail curled on the ground as Kurt tried to haul him upwards. He wasn't getting warmer down here and Kurt was worried that if he didn't bring his temperature up soon that his heart would stop; temperature spells were notoriously ill-tempered, and Elliot hadn't been aiming for gentle when he cast it.

Growling with frustration, he heaved him upright and persuaded Blaine to wrap his arms around his waist, locking into place vice-like once they were there. Shivering at the contrast, Kurt drew in a deep breath – one of his last, if the bubble around his head was any indication – and reached for his wand, pointing it skyward and commanding, _"Wingardium leviosa._"

Blaine was heavy enough that the usually swift journey took longer than Kurt expected, their heads breaching the surface just as Kurt's bubble disappeared. He towed Blaine towards the closest shore without letting the cold catch up to him, paddling as Blaine flapped his tail weakly, face even more pale in the full light.

As soon as they hit the ground, Blaine flopped heavily onto the grass, clawing his way weakly onto the ground and shivering hard. Kurt helped tug him away from the water until he was propped up against a tree, waving his wand again with an _Accio cloak!_ He caught the material and draped it over Blaine's shivering form, heedless of the claws shredding portions of it as Blaine curled them against it, clutching it to his torso.

It wasn't enough, he knew at once, as Blaine's shivering intensified. Flicking his wand and summoning his own Invisibility Cloak, he draped it across his shoulders and flicked the hood over his head, effectively vanishing from behind. Blaine could still see him, though, his face unshrouded as he knelt down, one hand holding the cloak shut and the other reaching for Blaine's half-frozen cheek, holding it so their eyes met.

"Don't move," he said, waiting until Blaine nodded in understanding before straightening from his crouch.

He hated to leave him, but he didn't have a choice – there was no way that he could transport Blaine without help. He couldn't ride a broom, either, negating that option, and Kurt didn't dare waste time on his alternatives.

Bee-lining for the Slytherin dormitory, he slipped off his Invisibility Cloak and made his way past the portrait into the quiet interior, well-lit and comfortably warm but empty. Taking the steps to the boys' dorms two steps at a time, he threw back the door for his fellow Sixth years and barked, "Puck!"

There was a muffled grunt from the bed closest to the window, a misshapen lump buried under the covers stirring at his voice. Not wasting time, Kurt yanked the blankets off him and said, "Get dressed. I need your help."

Thankfully, once he got past the initial hungover-like phases of waking up, Puck was quick and compliant: he leveled a flat look at Kurt that said _so help me God I will charm the hell out of your bedding if this is a joke _before shrugging on his cloak, ready to go. "Where are we going?"

Kurt didn't respond, leading the way back down the staircase and expecting – praying, hoping, _needing _– Puck to follow.

Thankfully, he did.

By the time they reached the lake Puck was more awake, questioning Kurt's motives and finally shutting up when Kurt snapped, "You owe me one, remember?"

They had an ongoing exchange of debts that both shamelessly exploited. It was a unique friendship, but at least Kurt could say that it had its rewards and Puck was honorable enough to follow through without question.

Which was why it caught Kurt momentarily off guard when Puck halted mid-step and _stared _at Blaine curled up against the tree, deathly still; he'd forgotten that mermaids were something of a rarity for most people. Kurt didn't wait for him to catch up mentally, taking off down the hill with a shouted, "Blaine!"

Blaine barely stirred, twitching his head in Kurt's direction with glazed over eyes, tilting his head to look up at him and extending a clawed hand in silent supplication. Kurt wrapped his arms under Blaine's instead, carefully hauling him upright and ignoring the shiver that coursed through him as he did so.

Puck cottoned on quickly enough: with only a single emphatic grunt at the effort, he lifted Blaine's tail, helping Kurt to carry him away from the lake.

It was slow-going up the hill. To his credit, Puck didn't ask questions or do more than curse whenever Blaine's tail slid in his grip, threatening to flop heavily to the ground at any moment. Somehow, miraculously, they tumbled back into the Slytherin dormitory after an exhausting trek around the lake, Kurt guiding them up to the Prefect baths as Puck followed carefully.

At last, they reached the door and Kurt let Puck work his magic to get them inside, grateful that he was clearly too spellbound by their current situation to refuse. He trusted Kurt's instincts – and Kurt had to trust his own – as they waddled inside and deposited Blaine on the tiled floor.

His face was ashen, and Kurt worried for a moment that he had made a mistake, that he needed to go to Madam Astor, after all (regardless of how she might have looked upon a mermaid, a creature that was supposedly self-sufficient and utterly unshakeable at best and cruel and aggressively defensive at worst). Then Blaine's eyes flickered up to his and he rasped, "K-Kurt."

Puck said, "Holy shit, Hummel."

Kurt didn't deign to reply, crouching down next to Blaine and letting his head rest against his knee. "Fill the bath with warm water. Not too hot," he warned Puck.

Blaine reached up a shaky hand towards him, and Kurt wordlessly intertwined their fingers, careful of the claws as they listened to the tub fill, Blaine's eyes half-lidded as he watched the water pour into the pool, his tail a lighter shade of blue than Kurt had ever seen it.

Once he'd gotten the bathwater to a reasonable temperature – twice he'd had Puck add in cold water to drop it, not wanting to shock Blaine's system – he helped Puck guide Blaine into the bath, letting him reach out sluggishly with an arm before dipping his tail into it.

The shift was sudden – one moment Blaine was on the tile and the next splashing into the water, Kurt's heart pounding until he reappeared, resting his arms on the side of the bath as he relaxed into the heat. Even tepid though it was, it was still noticeably warmer than the lake had been – even the strangely warm bottom – and Kurt was relieved to see color returning slowly to his cheeks.

Mermaids _were_ hardy, he mused, feeling the tension seeping out of his own shoulders at Blaine's repose.

"Should I ask?" Puck ventured, seeming neither disquieted nor particularly concerned. "They're serving waffles at the Great Hall and I'm not missing out on that."

"I can take it from here," Kurt assured, surprised at how calm he sounded. "Thank you. And please don't – tell anyone?"

"Lips are sealed," Puck promised, halfway out the door when he added, "Oh, and Hummel? You owe me."

The door slid shut behind him and Kurt couldn't even bring himself to be annoyed at the prospect – he was just relieved that Blaine was okay, his tail slowly waving in the water behind him, feeling and color returning to it.

"How are you feeling?" Kurt asked.

Blaine rested his chin on his arms, oddly human, and said nothing.

"That well, huh?" Kurt asked, slipping off his shoes and dipping his own toes in the water. Blaine stiffened, looking over at him with those bright golden eyes as though he expected Kurt to lunge at him before relaxing again, unperturbed.

"This is all against the rules, I'll have you know," Kurt said, swishing his feet through the water as Blaine swished his tail to the same rhythm, slow and methodical.

Blaine stared at him in silence, tail flapping gently in the water.

"I'm sorry that Elliot – did that to you," Kurt said quietly, unable to remain silent on the issue any longer. "I never – _ever _– wanted you to get hurt."

Blaine's brow furrowed for a moment before his jaw tensed at the memory. "Elliot – bad. Very bad."

"Very bad," Kurt agreed. "I won't let him hurt you again. I promise."

Sinking a little deeper in the water, his back lowering until just his head and shoulders were above the water, Blaine said, "No hurt is good hurt."

"I'm glad you're not hurting," Kurt said, relieved to hear that Blaine wasn't in any discomfort – or, at the very least, only marginal discomfort. "I really am sorry about what happened."

Blaine shrugged, slipping into the water fully after a moment, reemerging in front of Kurt and making his breath halt in his chest as he rested his elbows on Kurt's knees.

"No more sorry," he said.

This close, his golden eyes were dazzling. Holding his breath – because three months ago he would have run from a mermaid five feet away, would never have let one get so _close _– he reached up and very, very gently touched Blaine's curls.

They were softer than he was expecting.

Almost at once, Blaine tilted his head towards Kurt's hand, letting him stroke through his curls.

"I don't understand you," he admitted, because the books were so inadequate and words even more so to describe what he felt about Blaine. _Subhuman, _he thought. Looking into those hazel eyes, though, he couldn't justify it; the words from Blaine's journal were still burned into his mind, the language barrier broken down and leaving no other immediate options at Kurt's disposal.

Take away the sharpened teeth and the claws and the tail and he _was _human, somewhere. Perhaps even closer to the surface than anyone had given Kurt reason to believe.

He carded his hand through Blaine's curls until he fell asleep, cheek resting on Kurt's knee as he dozed in the water.

God, he was human.

. o .

Inevitably, word got around about the incident. Kurt eventually started speaking to Elliot again, although he let the silence hang unbroken between them for two weeks before doing so. He addressed the concerns of Headmaster Waters by reassuring that Blaine was back in the Great Lake where he belonged. And he'd fenced the rumors that had come his way about his relationship with Blaine, maintaining an aloof but firm stance that he was intrigued by Blaine but in no way formally dating him.

The Elliot incident kept Rachel and Mercedes from pestering him _too _fiercely about it, even though he wasn't able to escape some prying. He simply sipped his cider and ignored them, focusing on the good things in his life without the need for a boyfriend.

Still, he visited Blaine every day, first with restorative potions that he pressed on him as a sort of apology for the Elliot incident and also to assuage his own fears about Blaine's condition. He seemed healthy, but even Kurt had needed to spend some more time at the Infirmary after his dip in the lake, his system shocked twice in one day. Blaine had courted disaster even more closely, and Kurt wasn't taking chances as a result.

They talked about anything and nothing that came to mind, Blaine answering Kurt's questions to the best of his ability and Kurt recorded the answers and, if Blaine was willing, stroked his hair as they sat at the base of a tree together. Eventually, Blaine would doze off and Kurt would give him a little nudge (after a suitably long period of time had passed in peaceful silence) so that he could return to his dormitory for the night.

Blaine kept him updated on Cooper, as much as it was relevant, and Kurt kept him updated on his life in return.

It wasn't until they were closer to the end of the school year – Kurt's Sixth year, and it ached in his chest to think that he only had one more year before he would leave Hogwarts forever – that he realized the glaring logistical error of their relationship.

Soon he would leave for home, but Blaine would remain at the lake. Three months of separation loomed.

Kurt spent even more time at the lake to compensate. As far as Rachel and Mercedes were concerned, Blaine and he were dating, and they insisted on "meeting" him formally after about three weeks of Kurt's nightly sojourns.

And so Kurt reluctantly brought Mercedes along and waited for Blaine to emerge. It took twice as long as usual for him to even bob out of the water, looking up at Mercedes warily until she extended a hand and he very delicately curled his own clawed hand around it.

They shook, and something about that was enough to convince Blaine to come partially on shore, tail still in the water, ready to flee if need be, but comfortable, otherwise.

Kurt tried not to think about what it would be like to introduce Blaine to his other friends, to his family, to his _dad. _ Blaine was a passing entertainment, a friend from far away that would always be inescapably tied to the land, and Kurt needed to accept that.

Heart heavy, he visited the lake on the last of May and tried to think of something to say. He knew that Blaine knew that he was leaving soon – he'd already broken that particularly unsavory news weeks ago – but to have the moment almost _here _was very different from looking at it in the abstract.

"Blaine?" he called.

He ducked when a book flew at his head.

"Cooper," Blaine hissed, bobbing out of the water a moment later as a second, slightly larger mermaid bobbed up beside him, hissing slightly. It took Kurt a moment to process the presence of another mermaid before he realized that Cooper was _laughing_, in the same grating way that mermaids did.

"Quick reflexes. He's a keeper," Cooper informed Blaine, nudging his shoulder and paddling farther out into the lake.

Blaine sighed – another hissing noise, and six months ago Kurt would have backed away fearfully; now he merely drew closer – before coming up onto shore and smacking a wave at Cooper with his tail.

"This is for you," Blaine explained, pronouncing each word carefully as he picked up the same water-logged diary that he had presented Kurt with before and handed it to him. "Now we can – talk. Even when you are gone."

There was a pen tucked inside the book, and Kurt couldn't help but feel his throat tighten at the thought that Blaine would give him _his _book just so Kurt could keep in touch.

"With Cooper home, we can talk," Blaine explained. "Not – the same. But good?"

Kurt didn't respond aloud; he just reached forward and scooped Blaine up in a hug, feeling him stiffen in surprise before his own clawed hands came to rest against Kurt's back gently.

"Stay safe. Okay?" Kurt demanded.

"Very safe," Blaine promised.

At that moment, Cooper chose to splash them, letting out another one of his hissing laughs as Kurt yelped in surprise and Blaine growled against Kurt's shoulder.

Letting him go after a long moment, Kurt stepped back, unconcerned that his clothes were soaking wet and his hair doubtless askew. He wouldn't see Blaine again for _months._

"I'm coming back," he said, holding up the book and adding, "This isn't goodbye."

"Miss you," Blaine admitted, slipping back into the water and looking up at him. "Talk – soon?"

"Very soon," Kurt said.

They weren't in love – Kurt wasn't even sure that he _could _fall in love with a mermaid – but Blaine was special and Kurt was determined to keep his promise.

Three months would be long, but they would survive. They had managed worse before.

. o .

_**Six Months Later**_

Blaine never gave up his tail.

Even after almost a year of not-dating and two and a half months of dating – they'd finally sealed the deal two weeks after Kurt's return with a careful kiss; as long as they were no teeth involved, then they were fine, _good _at it – Kurt had never wanted him to lose his tail. He knew how happy Blaine was in the water, how much more _natural _Blaine was underwater and how every part of him was attuned to aquatic life. Asking him to give that up for the sake of free movement on land was a cruel request at best and criminal at worst.

So they worked around it. With Artie's assistance – and Kurt knew that he was finally becoming the person that he wanted to be when he cheerfully requested a Hufflepuff's help – Kurt was able to devise a wheelchair that Blaine could sit in without breaking (the tail was much heavier than Artie had been prepared for).

They explored the castle together for hours at a time. To Kurt's surprise, Blaine seemed to know the grounds even better than he did (he later showed Kurt a map of the grounds tucked in his book, one of Cooper's positions). He embraced the challenges and marveled at the novelties, thrilling at all the new opportunities presented to him (even though some areas were inherently off-limits in the wheelchair; thankfully, Hogwarts always had a way, and the House Elves were more than willing to find it).

Blaine loved the House Elves, frequently chattering with them in his own tongue and then struggling over words like "cheesecake" and "marmalade." He liked to bring Kurt gifts, and so he would summon an Elf and make a request for "toast" and then beam with delight when the Elf returned seconds later with a slice of plain toast.

To him, toast was a novelty. Kurt loved him for it.

He loved many things about Blaine. He loved how accommodating and honest he was, how sincere and curious he was, how aggressively _Blaine _he was, even to the point of embarrassment. He loved that he could trust Blaine with secrets without needing to offer lengthy explanations. He loved that Blaine could read his emotions without needing to ask. He loved that even when more complicated plans fell apart, Blaine was more than happy to spend entire afternoons curled up against Kurt in a bathtub with Kurt in swim trunks and Blaine's tail hooked over the edge of the tub.

It was challenging, loving a mermaid: a creature that, according to all books, was so inhuman that love did not exist outside the family.

As they sat on the edge of the lake together, Kurt watching Blaine bask in the sun on the shore beside him, Blaine tilted his head back and said, very simply, "I love you."

Kurt froze, thumb pausing against the back of Blaine's hand where it was sweeping circles. Blaine's smile didn't waver as he looked at Kurt directly and raised an eyebrow, almost challenging.

"I love you, too," Kurt said, surprised at how true it was.

There would always be challenges to loving a mermaid, but as long as he had Blaine, then Kurt was willing to take the risks.


End file.
